


The Gift of Life

by CrossroadsDemon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, So much angst, Suicide Attempt, Temporary Character Death, sorry I didn't tag this right the first time, then some fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:57:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossroadsDemon/pseuds/CrossroadsDemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes was born with a beautiful ability; the ability to create life out of paint. But he hated it. He swore every day that he would never use the gift unless he absolutely had to. His brother, Mycroft, was born with the ability to control fire, and Sherlock wished every day that things were the opposite. He hated the thought of even looking at a pencil. Until he met John Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reapersun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reapersun/gifts).



> An AU fic I did based on a piece of reapersun fanart. I just had to do it. It is multi-chapter, but finished. Short chapters, and a lot of angst in it, but it ends happy. Like, disgustingly happy. You'll puke rainbows and poop cotton candy. UPDATE: I AM SMACK IN THE MIDDLE OF ADDING ONTO THIS, SO COME BACK FREQUENTLY TO SEE. I'm changing a lot. Like, a lot. Be prepared. Making it less sad this time. No suicide.

Mike knew as soon as he saw John that he had to introduce him to Sherlock. Mike was a Soul Seeing Fae, he could see souls and knew exactly which would resonate with one another. John Watson was the only person he had met so far that had a soul compatible with the eccentric Sherlock Holmes. 

“John, John Watson?” Mike called, waving the shorter man towards him. 

“Yeah?” John said as he limped towards the larger man. He recognized his face, but couldn’t place it.

“It’s Mike Stamford,” Mike said, patting himself on the chest. He could feel John’s soul recognize him, and John smiled suddenly.

“Yes, of course! Sorry. How are you?” He invited the other man to sit next to him on the bench.

“I’m okay. Teaching at Bart’s now. What about you? I heard you were in the military.” He looked over just as John absently rubbed his bad leg.

“Yeah, got shot and invalided. Trying to find a flat share right now.” John sniffed, lowering his eyes, and glancing up in irritation when he heard Mike snicker.

“What’s so funny?” John frowned, following Mike as he gets up.

“There’s someone I want you to meet.” The ghost of a smirk crossed his face as they set off towards the hospital.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was like any other day, a boring case from Lestrade, Molly awkwardly flirting with him, a few clients that needed him. He wasn’t, however, expecting Mike Stamford to show up again with an old friend of his.

Sherlock knew the second he walked in the room that John Watson was a Guardian Fae. They were a special kind, as they could summon powers at will to protect innocents. He figured that he was a military man because of it, and a doctor from the fact that he  
just made a comment to Mike about Bart’s being different from [his] day. 

“Mike, can I borrow your phone?” He turned and looked at the bigger man, searching for a tell in his face. When he looked over at John, Mike smiled a tiny bit and Sherlock knew why he had brought this mystery man into his life.

“Sorry, other coat.” Mike said looking awkwardly around the room, a smile on his face.

“Here, use mine.” John stepped forward and handed the tall man his cell. Their fingers touched for just a second, and Sherlock felt as though he had been struck by lightning. Electricity coursed through his fingers and right up into his brain. 

Sherlock spun around and shot off the text to Lestrade, trying to hide the blush that had crept into his pale face. He handed John his phone and shrugged into his jacket, talking quite fast about his habits and the place he was looking at before he grabbed his gloves and prepared himself to storm out of the room. What stopped him was a very stern “That’s it? We don’t know a thing about each other and we’re gonna go look at a flat?” John was standing erect with his arms folded across his chest. Sherlock was taken aback at the outburst, but quickly recovered. 

“I know you’re an Army doctor, and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. You've got a brother worried about you, but you won’t go to him for help, because you don’t approve of him, possibly because he’s a telepath, more likely because he recently left his wife.” Sherlock stopped for a second to catch his breath, and looked at Mike. He was nodding, so Sherlock continued.

“The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon.” Sherlock winked at the doctor and walked out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

It was like any other day, a boring case from Lestrade, Molly awkwardly flirting with him, a few clients that needed him. He wasn’t, however, expecting Mike Stamford to show up again with an old friend of his.

“Mike, can I borrow your phone?” He turned and looked at the bigger man, searching for a tell in his face. When he looked over at John, Mike smiled a tiny bit and Sherlock knew why he had brought this mystery man into his life.

“Sorry, other coat.” Mike said looking awkwardly around the room, a smile on his face.

“Here, use mine.” John stepped forward and handed the tall man his cell. Their fingers touched for just a second, and Sherlock felt as though he had been struck by lightning. Electricity coursed through his fingers and right up into his brain. 

Sherlock spun around and shot off the text to Lestrade, trying to hide the blush that had crept into his pale face. He handed John his phone and shrugged into his jacket, talking quite fast about his habits and the place he was looking at before he grabbed his gloves and prepared himself to storm out of the room. What stopped him was a very stern “That’s it? We don’t know a thing about each other and we’re gonna go look at a flat?” John was standing erect with his arms folded across his chest. Sherlock was taken aback at the outburst, but quickly launched into deductions about John. 

“I know you’re an Army doctor, and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. You've got a brother worried about you, but you won’t go to him for help, because you don’t approve of him, possibly because he’s a telepath, more likely because he recently left his wife.” Sherlock stopped for a second to catch his breath, and looked at Mike. He was nodding, so Sherlock continued.

“The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon.” Sherlock winked at the doctor and walked out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so short. Like I said, this'll all be on tonight, so you won't have to wait too long.

Life with Sherlock wasn’t easy for John, but he loved being around the crazy man none-the-less. Every case was a thrill ride for the two, every day was an adventure waiting to happen. 

The first day John came to the flat, Sherlock found them a case that ended with Sherlock almost getting killed and John shooting a serial killer. Life was good, and it was about to get better for the both of them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know this may be deceiving, but this story will have no smut.

John didn’t know right away why Sherlock was so protective of him, but when it did hit him, he knew he had to address it instantly. 

He was having a pint with Mike at the local bar, when Mike asked him how it was going with Sherlock. John was confused, until he realized what Mike’s special ability was. He slammed his pint down on the table and ran out, shouting an apology over his shoulder.

John came bolting into the flat and stopped dead in his tracks. He realized he had no idea what to say, but as it turns out he didn’t need to say anything.

“Did you figure it out on your own or did Mike clue you in?” Sherlock stepped out of his room and walked slowly towards John. 

“Mike just gave me a push in the right direction. I deduced the rest myself.” John stepped forward and put a hand on Sherlock’s arm. He squeezed a little bit when he felt sparks shoot up his fingers.

Sherlock leaned down suddenly and kissed John, wrapping an arm behind his head and cupping his jaw with the other. A blinding white light flashed across his vision and he gasped. John pulled back and put his head against Sherlock’s chest. They were both breathing heavily, and John started to laugh. 

“Is it going to be like that every time?” He giggled and pulled Sherlock into a proper hug.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock was checking his reflection again when Mrs. Hudson came into the room.

“Sherlock, you’re going to be late!” She waved her hands frantically at him and scurried out of the room. He took a deep breath and stepped out into the foyer. 

Lestrade and Mycroft were standing arm-in-arm waiting for him. As soon as he was out, Lestrade ran over. 

“Good God, Sherlock. You’re almost late to your own bloody wedding!” he pulled the taller man into place and waited for John to arrive.

The music began shortly and John stepped out. Sherlock doesn’t remember much after that, just a whirlwind of kisses, photos, and uncoordinated dances with long lost relatives. He does remember Mycroft getting particularly drunk and confessing that he loves Sherlock, but that’s something the two brothers keep to themselves.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on kiddies, it's about to get a little angsty.

Moriarty. To this day that name sends shivers up Sherlock’s spine. He was the case that broke the detective. He ruined Sherlock’s reputation, destroyed any chance of having a long life with John, and put everyone that loved him at risk. So Sherlock devised a plan to save those around him and destroy Moriarty at the same time. 

He was going to fake his own death and hope that John could live without him there.


	7. Chapter 7

John Watson was a soldier. He had seen death, had killed men, and had kept death from taking good people. He thought he could handle anything, but the day that Sherlock fell from Bart’s John realized just how fragile he really was.

He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and couldn’t function beyond getting out of bed and sitting in his chair. Lestrade wouldn’t let John work cases anymore after he puked violently on scene. The body was that of a middle aged man with curly black hair, and John couldn’t stand it. He tried sometimes, going out to the pub with Mike or having tea with Mrs. Hudson, but everyone knew he wasn’t dealing. 

John had considered suicide before he met Sherlock, but then it was only a fantasy. A route that could be taken, but wouldn’t be because John actually liked living. Now, suicide seemed to be his only way out. Sherlock was John’s entire life, his best friend and his soul mate. And now he was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

It has been three months since Sherlock faked his own death. He was doing undercover work for Mycroft in Indonesia, on top of his own personal work. He had to do it of course, to protect those he loved, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this badly. He missed John each and every day that he was away, but he still had pieces of Moriarty’s web to eradicate before he could return. He estimated another six months and he would be completely done, he just hoped John could wait that long. Boy was he wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little longer, and a lot more sad. It gets better, I promise.

John’s counselor had prescribed him sleeping pills that he never took, and right now he was glad. He sat on the bed, the bottle in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. He had written letters to all of the people that cared, and had set them on the table so Mrs. Hudson would find them in the morning. He set the tea down and tipped the pills into his hand. He calculated that at the dosage they were, he would need about eleven to successfully take his life. 

He counted out eleven little yellow pills and put the bottle on the bedside table. Gingerly, he picked up his tea and took all eleven at once. He threw back the rest of his tea and laid down, waiting. It didn’t take long. The dosage knocked him out before the vomiting and convulsions began, and his body quickly began to shut down. 

John woke up in the flat, but he was standing in the living room, not his bed where he fell asleep. He thought he was dreaming, but everything was extremely realistic. He saw Sherlock walk towards him, and he knew where he was. It was the first time Sherlock had kissed him, the day their whole relationship took off. The kiss was just as amazing as he remembered it that day. 

He flashed to another part of his life, and he saw Harry and himself as children running around the backyard of his parent’s house. He then realized he had succeeded in killing himself. He settled into the chair that had appeared and just let the memories flood over him, a smile at the corners of his mouth.


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock grumbled as he woke, rolling over to answer the ringing phone. This was time number four, and Mycroft was the only person who had the number, so he knew it was important. 

“What do you want?” he growled into the phone, inwardly groaning as he saw what time it was. 

“Sherlock, you need to get here now. I don’t care what you have left to do, you need to be here. It’s John, Sherlock. He’s in the hospital.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have a little Mystrade.

Mycroft sighed and added a silent please before hanging up the phone. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers while reaching for the glass of whiskey he had on the table next to him. Greg walked in and casually refilled the glass.

“Is he coming?” he asked as he put the bottle away in the cabinet.

“I sure hope so. The doctors don’t know how extensive the internal damage is, and if it’s too great, they have to…” Mycroft stopped as the reality of the situation hit him, and he began to cry softly. Greg stepped closer and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. 

“I’m so sorry.” He took the glass out of his hand and walked into the kitchen. He came back out with a bottle of water and handed it to Mycroft. 

“Thank you, Gregory.” Mycroft took his hand and patted it gently before getting up and locking himself in his bedroom.


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock ran out of the airport and stopped a cab by throwing himself into the road.

“St. Peter Memorial Hospital, and there’s twenty pounds in it if you can get me there in ten minutes.” Sherlock shouted at the cabbie as they sped off. He bounced nervously in his seat for the entire ride. 

The cabbie, good to his word, got Sherlock there in the timeframe, and Sherlock shoved fistfuls of bills at him as he sprinted out of the car. He ran into the hospital and started shouting for John Watson. One of the ladies on staff managed to shout third floor at him before he took off again.

As he burst through the door on the third floor, he noticed Mycroft talking to one of the doctors. He ran up and caught the end of the conversation.

“I’m very sorry, Mister Holmes but there’s nothing more we can do. He’s gone.” The doctor squeezed Mycroft’s shoulder once before walking away. 

Mycroft turned on his heel at the sound of his brother hitting the floor. He rushed to his side and pulled him up long enough to throw him into a chair.

“What the bloody Hell happened, Mycroft? I thought you said he was doing fine!” Sherlock was shaking with rage and fear and sadness all at once. 

Mycroft sighed and sat next to his brother. “He was dealing for the first few weeks, but he lost control after your birthday. He stopped eating, couldn’t sleep… We kept an eye on him, but we didn’t see the signs. This morning, Mrs. Hudson took tea up to him like   
she does every morning and found the letters. He had overdosed after writing letters to all of us. We all read ours, yours is the only one left.” 

Mycroft pulled a white envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Sherlock. He accepted it but made no move to open it.

“Why would he write me a letter if he thought I was dead? It’s illogical.” Sherlock stood quickly and began pacing. He considered opening the letter, but quickly shoved that thought down. 

“Can I see him, before they take him off life support?” He took a shuddering breath and tears began to drip down his face.

“Yes, of course. Right in here.” Mycroft pushed him into the dimly lit room and looked sadly at his baby brother. “They take him off at six, no later. You have till then.” He shut the door and left. He would come back later, once Sherlock had said his goodbyes.


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock shuffled over to the side of the bed and took John’s hand. He ran his fingers over the cold skin, and he realized that his John was gone forever. 

Violent sobs wracked his body as he sat next to his one true friend. He knew he should have told him, kept the promise he made the day he asked for John’s hand in marriage. He began babbling about how he was sorry and wished he could take it all back. 

He realized John couldn’t hear what he was saying, so he took the time to memorize his face. Every wrinkle and scar, every hair, every blemish. He walked around him memorizing everything about John he could. He didn’t even realize he was doing it. 

Just then the phone in his pocket began buzzing and it drew him out of his trance. He stepped out of the room and flicked the phone open.

“Sherlock, it’s almost time. Do you want me to come back?” Mycroft sounded as though he had been shouting, so Sherlock knew it was hitting him just as hard. 

“Yes, I don’t think I could go through this alone.” Sherlock shut the phone before Mycroft could respond and leaned against the door. He didn’t think he could go back in just yet.


	14. Chapter 14

Mycroft stepped out of the elevator and met the doctors at the door. They nodded grimly at one another and opened the door. Sherlock was sitting in the chair half draped on the bed. He stood quickly at the sound of the door, and Mycroft could see him shaking. 

“It’s time.” The doctor walked over to the machine keeping the former Doctor John Hamish Watson alive, and began shutting it off. As the different machines slowly stopped, Sherlock found himself feeling more and more like passing out. He sat in the chair and took John’s hand one last time.


	15. Chapter 15

Sherlock stood in front of the gravestone as the rest of John’s family slowly left the graveyard. Molly tried to talk to him, but he just ignored her until she went away. He could feel nothing and couldn’t even pretend he cared right that second. After everyone had left, he pulled is violin out of the bushes and taped a piece of music to the headstone. He began playing, and by the time he was finished, he felt a little better. 

“I wrote that for you. I was going to play it for you after I returned. Our anniversary was coming up, and I figured you would appreciate the sentiment.” Sherlock propped the violin up next to the sheet music and walked away.


	16. Chapter 16

Mycroft sent Lestrade to check the flat more than once a week just to be safe. During the searches, Sherlock throws a fit and screams at the detective inspector, but it doesn’t stop them. Even Anderson stayed after Sherlock had thrown a beaker of some unknown substance at him. 

Mycroft knew this was an important time to keep Sherlock clean, because he had almost lost him once. He knew that Sherlock would be even more careless now.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it starts to get happy. I promise.

John didn’t know how long he had been floating around in his own memories, but he found it harder and harder to hold onto the ones when he was younger. He figured he was being prepared for the next step of whatever afterlife he had made it into, but he wasn’t positive. 

He flashed over to the bedroom at 221B, and it took him a minute but he realized which memory this was. He looked over at the door to the bathroom and waited for Sherlock to emerge.

“John,” he said seriously as he sat on the bed. “I need to talk to you about something.” Sherlock kept wringing his hands, and John remembered being nervous about what was going on. At the time, he thought Sherlock was breaking up with him. That is, until Sherlock reached into the table by the bed and pulled out a small blue box. 

“I told you once I was married to my work, and as our relationship has gone way beyond friends, I hope you know that this is not true. I have never been good with people, but you love me anyway. So it would be my honour, John Hamish Watson, if you would marry me.” Sherlock took his hand and slipped the small silver band over his finger. John pulled him into a kiss that he would never forget.


	18. Chapter 18

Sherlock sat in front of the canvas and started mixing colors. He knew he would have to get it perfect if he wanted to make this work. As he mixed the colors on the palate, he began to hum the song he wrote for John.

Painting was easier than he had remembered, the paint sliding smoothly onto the canvas. He could feel the power behind every stroke, waiting for him to finish. He kept painting.


	19. Chapter 19

John knew something was off when the memory started to shimmer. He didn’t know what was going on, but he held still. 

Suddenly, the memory went blank and he found himself staring at a black spot in the distance. It was a figure, and it was coming towards him. He thought he had finally lost it, but as it drew closer, he realized it was Sherlock. He promptly blacked out.

When he came to, he could hear someone calling his name, but he felt like he was frozen. The yelling got louder and louder, and he was finally able to move. He leaned forward, and promptly stopped. He was leaning out of the canvas in the basement of 221, and sitting in front of him was Sherlock.


	20. Chapter 20

Sherlock finished the painting and placed both hands on the canvas. He closed his eyes and could feel the life flicker through the paint. He pushed outward mentally and called out to John, and a few seconds he felt a hand on his. 

He opened his eyes and was face-to-face with John, his John. His heart leapt into his throat and he began crying.

“Sherlock, what’s going on?” John asked, looking around. 

It took Sherlock a few moments before he could speak. 

“John, I… I wasn’t sure that would work.” He reached forward and carefully placed one hand on John’s chest, as if to make sure he was real, before he pulled him into a heart-stopping kiss.


	21. Chapter 21

Mycroft didn’t know quite what to think when he walked into Baker Street and found John sitting in Sherlock’s lap like no time had passed, but knew that his brother’s ability was powerful enough to breach the veil between worlds and rescue his soul mate. 

He laughed inwardly at the two and knew that they would both pull through just fine, and as he is leaving, he hears the words adoption and uncle Mycroft. He shakes his head with a smile and walks out of the flat. He had paperwork to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it ends kind of abruptly, but I felt like that was the end. Let me know if I need to fix anything, and tell me what you though!

**Author's Note:**

> GUYS, GUYS I'M WORKING ON IT AGAIN! WOOP! Just give me a few days and it'll be on its way if not fully finished!


End file.
